


When the Rain Comes

by a_genderfluid_otter



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cancer, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 05:59:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7965238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_genderfluid_otter/pseuds/a_genderfluid_otter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Carlos, I had never understood what it was to need another person. I was happy with my life, blindly and confidently content with the loneliness that accompanied the everyday. I lived, I worked, I existed; everything was perfect. I had friends and I had people that I more-or-less cared about. Perhaps, the cruelty was that I had no idea what life with something better was like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Rain Comes

The first thing I want to see when I wake up tomorrow is the sleeping form of my boyfriend curled against me. I want to see him sleep addled with that disgusting build-up of yellow crumbles at the corner of his eyes and a similar, whitish substance around his mouth (He drools. It’s cute. Sometimes). What I want to see is his slow and shallow breathing in the feeble minutes before he has to get up for work, a tedious job at our local laboratory that he loves more than life itself. I want to hear him growl and hiss at the alarm when it does eventually sound, see him throw an arm out to violently silence the shrill bleating before rolling back over, eyeing me with surprise. He’s always surprised to see me staring down at him. I want to see his lips split into the most gorgeous smile the world will ever witness, all white-teeth and soft lips before stuttering out a sleep-addled, “Buenos dias, Cecil. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

 

But I won’t. And that devastates me more than the entire host of languages can verbalise. It hurts like the desert ground aching for water after the unbearable drought that we’ve been in.

 

Before Carlos, I had never understood what it was to need another person. I was happy with my life, blindly and confidently content with the loneliness that accompanied the everyday. I lived, I worked, I existed; everything was perfect. I had friends and I had people that I more-or-less cared about. Perhaps, the cruelty was that I had no idea what life with something better was like.

 

Then he came in. All tall and handsome with a voice that made me want for breath. His hair swept in curls and straights, rich and black save for the dust of grey at the temples. And his smile—god, his smile—lightning parting the skies of his darkened skin. It really wasn’t fair. I had gone to the Mayor’s press-conference to gather information for my radio show, expecting to be bored only to meet him.

 

Perhaps I made myself out to be the fool that night, tripping and babbling over my words as I gave him my number “just in case.” He was new after all and, as a prominent figure in the city, it was my job to assist those who were new to the city.

 

“And you are…?”

 

“Cecil. Cecil Baldwin,” I stuttered, shoving my hand at him. He gave it an unsure look before taking mine firmly in his, giving it a shake.

 

“Carlos Cortez.” I tried not to gush, stating it was a pleasure to meet him.

 

“You’re the man who does the evening radio show, right?”

 

“Four-to-eight every weekday. I just give, you know, city news and important things.”

 

“Really? That’s great.” He took out a small leaf of paper, scribbling down on it. “I’m here on loan from Washington to study the oddities that have been showing up since the introduction of the new plant.” I knew what he was talking about. Strexcorp was a big change for all of us, but it was creating jobs in this desolate economy, so who were we to complain?

 

“If anything important comes up, feel free to let me know. And I’ll do the same. It’s nice to meet you, Cecil.” He looked up at me over the rim of his glasses, brown eyes boring into mine. I felt lack of breath when I assured him the pleasure was mine, again, and bid him a good night.

 

I fell in love instantly.

 

Him, well, not so much. I wasn’t subtle with my interest, I got hell for it from the Interns and those around me, but Carlos never seemed to notice. He just didn’t react. After a year, I came to terms with it. He’d call when he needed something odd in the city explained or an alert put out because Strexcorp’s dumping was contaminating the water for six-to-eight hours or when a supposed rain was to come (it never did) or, rarely, when he needed someone to talk to. And that was okay—sometimes people just aren’t interested.

 

But a year from the day he swept into our city, he finally reacted. I had just finished up the show and he called me out to the mid-way between my job and my home. I was more than a little panicked, running towards where he was perched on the hood of the car. What was supposed to be a simple conversation about the dangers of potential water-poisoning or noxious gases or something else turned into dinner at one of the run-down shops in the strip mall between Summerset and 34th Avenue while we watched the first rain in months. After that, it turned into bated breath and phone calls, blooming into an actual first date, then a _real_ relationship.

 

I was happy, ridiculously and maddeningly so. I’d never seen a benefit to caring for another person before, but Carlos showed me that it could be nice. I had someone to talk with, to tease, to confide in. There was someone who was willing to listen to my problems, to console me through the small things and through the large things. Just on the longer side of our year anniversary, I had a new roommate.

 

And then I’d come home late from the station to see Carlos slumped forward on the sofa with his head in hands. Even from the opposite side of the room, I could tell something was wrong. Sitting beside him, moving his head to my lap with my fingers weathering through his perfect hair, he stumbled out an explanation. The headaches and the exhaustion and the near-fainting on a number of times in the past several weeks weren’t just exhaustion.

 

“Cancer.” I spat the word out, numb to the pain that it drove into my chest.

 

“Chordorma,” he confessed, grabbing tight to my hand. “Brain tumour.”

 

While the first word meant nothing to me, the second two meant everything. That night, we spilled our share of tears, hugged and clutched and kissed like enough affections would change the outcome.

 

The months that followed were lead in the same blind optimism. Everything would be okay, the treatments would work, the surgeries, too. However, when Carlos was nothing more than a skeleton sprawled across the starchy bedding with every manner of equipment shoved into his system, we both admitted to the lies we’d been telling.

 

It took pleading on both of our parts, but the Doctor gave us leave to allow Carlos to come home and die in peace. I laid beside him in the comfort of a bed that was quickly growing cold. We talked and whispered what words could be said between lovers in their last moments together. More promises, more lies because they brought less tears than reality.

 

I was still holding to his hand when his last breath was dragged from his body as unwilling as I was to let him go.

 

The funeral was a nice affair and the burial was quick.

 

I wished they’d just given me the benefit of being buried along with Carlos. Taking him away threw everything that my life alone had been missing. The house was too quiet when I came home, dinners too lonesome, and the bed far too cold. I was wrecked, what else would I be?

 

Nights were spent curled into the safety of the tattered armchair was that was slowly losing its scent of heavy antiseptics and lingering burns (damn idiot had gotten too close with a match, once).

 

Two months passed like chaff in the wind. I lost track of time, never saw friends—I who had been once a part of the town was nothing more than a ghost. I was angry. I was hurt. I was confused. Of an entire world all waiting to die, it had to be Carlos. I wouldn’t be consoled.

 

I was sitting alone in the house, the lights off and half-asleep against Carlos’ armchair when I heard it. It was a slow, steady noise. At first, I hardly recognised it, pebbles and rocks being dropped onto the roof. Eventually, the noise grew louder and louder until I couldn’t hear my own thoughts over the ruckus. I went to the window, throwing back the blinds and surprised not to be blinded by desert sunlight. The entire world beyond the glass was grey quietude. I stared out, dumbfounded as the entire community was soaked in an early-summer downpour. The same rain that had once graced the entrance of a dark-skinned scientist, that had encased us in the safety of our first kiss, and the same one that had been missed for so many, many months since.

 

Stepping onto the patio, I watched the dirt darken with moisture. A smile forced at my lips. A smile that turned into a chuckle, a chuckle into blooming laughter. Before long, I stood there clutching to the side of the house, wrestling between giggles and sobs.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was a piece I created for a Creative Writing Final my freshman year of college. As of right now, there is exactly one piece of fanfiction on my account, so let's make it two.
> 
> Given the fact that it was for a class project full of people who had no idea what Night Vale, there are inconsistencies with the show itself. Please forgive that.


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